


White Rabbit

by deathsteel



Series: One-Shots, Tumblr Prompts, and Unrelated Crap [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Related, Give A Read Challenge, M/M, One Shot, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:39:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsteel/pseuds/deathsteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Castiel and Dean search for Gadreel, the newly minted angel must make a difficult decision, one that he is fairly certain his hunter definitely will not like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> Give A Read Challenge Prompt Week #1: Cas must posses Dean. 
> 
> (taken from mishadmitrikrushnicollins via tumblr)

He had seen a lot of things in his lifetime, could vividly remember watching as the primates climbed out of the trees and turned their sticks into weapons and tools, gradually becoming more and more like the humans he knew now over the course of several millennia until he was left with Dean Winchester. Castiel had seen more things about Dean than any other angel, had seen how his soul had burned brightly in hell even though it had already started to fade from the bright, emerald silver that it was now into something tarnished and blackened with the imprints of the souls that he had tortured creeping like a flesh eating virus over the surface of Dean's psyche; it had taken years before the scars of his 40 years had finally started to fade.

He had seen Dean age and mature and become the person that he knew the other man always would. He had seen him cry, mostly over Sam but sometimes over the victims that they were too late to save or for the ones they got to in time, but ended up following the Winchesters down the path of being a hunter instead of living a normal life like the other man wanted them to. He had seen Dean fornicate, but the other man didn't know that. It was during his time with Lisa and Ben; Castiel had felt the all too human guilt twisting his stomach after he erased their memories because it meant that the woman couldn't remember how much Dean had actually cared about her. Dean still remembered and that hurt enough in and of itself.

On more occasions than he could count, he remembered seeing Dean bloody and beaten. Sometimes Castiel had even been the one to cause it in the first place, but he always healed him afterwards. If he was really mad he wouldn't heal him completely, he would leave bruises or cuts that he knew Dean would see later when he changed clothes or showered so that the other man would be reminded of whatever stupid thing he had done to get hurt in the first place and hopefully not do it again. It was borderline petty, but spending so much time with humans made that excusable when he did it to prove a point; Sam agreed with him.

But this time there was just so much blood, everywhere. Creeping out of the corners of his eyes like scarlet tears, pouring out of his nose and mouth and ears until the only parts of Dean's face that he could recognize were his eyes and his lips which he had spent so much time studying that he would probably be able to draw them from memory alone if someone were to ask him to. He had flown there as fast as he could, moving with his stolen wings that felt awkward and cumbersome to him now that he had been living without them for so long.

It was a miracle that he had been able to fly at all, but he hadn't been far away. Just across the city that they had split up to search for Gadreel in, hoping to find Sam's body and eject the traitorous angel before he could get even farther away in the youngster Winchester's form. Their plan had been to trap him with holy fire, eject the angel and then bottle his incorporeal essence until they could figure out some way to make him pay for all the lies he had told and the lives he had taken while wearing Sam Winchester's face. They had been following the murders, the ones where the victims had their eyes burned out and their insides charred in the typical fashion of an angelic homicide, the same way that Kevin had been taken from them too very soon.

They had not been expecting to find Abaddon, running with a hoard of renegade angels out destroying potential vessels before their siblings that still did not have forms could find the humans and convince them to agree to being an angel's glorified meat suit. He knew it was the demon because he had been on the phone with Dean when the other man had stumbled upon her hideout, approaching her with his defiant, stupid, stubborn swagger that never did anything but make things worse.

She had thrown Dean around a bit by the time Castiel got there, crushing more than one rib and puncturing one of his lungs with the shards of bone that were rattling around like loose puzzle pieces inside of the other man's chest. Abaddon had ran the second she had realized that Castiel had a grace back, making some snide comment about him picking up all kinds of bad habits from his pets before fleeing with a wrathful chuckle because she knew that Castiel wouldn't follow her, not while Dean's crumpled, broken form was still breathing.

He knelt fluidly next to Dean, scooping up the other man to cradle his head in his lap as he tried to assess the damage in the least painful way possible. Dean's breaths were coming in ragged, shallow gurgling gasps that formed little bubbles of blood-red spittle at the corners of his mouth when he tried to smirk cheekily at the angel. His green eyes were searching Castiel's face, settling on his mouth which he knew was frowning in disapproval and then moving to his eyes which were fighting against all the commands that he was giving them to not cry, do not cry.

"You got here fast, Cas." Dean gasped out, wincing in pain when Castiel shifted his knees and noticed that Dean's femur was broken clean in half and protruding from the thigh of his jeans in the most alarming way. "Angel express."

"Stop talking," Castiel ordered, pressing his index and middle fingers of his left hand softly against the bloodied, tacky skin of Dean's forehead in a practiced motion, frowning and huffing out an irritated breath when the other man wasn't immediately up and on his feet, complaining about blood stains that weren't going to come out instead of talking about how reckless it had been for him to suggest they split up in the first place.

"Guess your mojo's all gone," Dean mumbled, coughing on his words and splattering a fine spray of blood over the front of Castiel's new trench coat and face. "Again. You're not the energizer bunny anymore, heh bunny."

"Will you shut up?" Castiel snapped, his hand trembling hard against Dean's damp hair as he bit his lip and prayed for someone to come and help him, not him.

They couldn't find him because of the warding, but they could follow the prayer maybe and it didn't matter who it was because he could fight his way out of this if the help turned out to be unfriendly, but he couldn't let Dean Winchester die again. Not now that he understood about all of the reasons why Dean did the stupid, foolhardy things he did for Sam and Lisa and Bobby and Kevin. If anything equated to love for Dean it was grand, dangerous gestures and facing down a brain-washed angel intent on killing anyone who got between him and his mission was pretty damn dangerous.

"Don't." Dean sputtered out, reaching up with a shaky whimper and a grunt of pain to cup Castiel's jaw in his hand. His thumb brushed over the skin there, clearing away the tears that the angel was shedding and smearing the drops of blood across his stubbled cheek. "Don't cry and for the love of pie, don't fucking pray. Just go, find Sam. Fix him."

"No," he replied, shaking his head and flinging tears down onto the blood slicked face of the man beneath him, clearing away the red in rivulets with his salty tears. "If I leave, you'll die. I can't heal you, but I'm not going anywhere until someone gets here who can."

"Pretty and suicidal," the dying man muttered, the green of his eyes turning glassy, cold, and distant. "I always liked a challenge and shit, Cas, you have always been the biggest pain in the ass."

"I'm s-sorry, Dean." Castiel said, sniffling and wishing that he had never been ripped out of Purgatory by Naomi because that punishment was so much more bearable than watching this. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm useless and too weak to help you, I should have ran here instead of flying."

"Shhhh," Dean chided, his grip on Castiel's cheek becoming looser and softer, scrabbling for purchase against the angel' skin before it fell heavily onto his shoulder instead. "At least this way, I get to see you. You run pretty fast, Cas, but I don't think you would've made it for the curtain call this time. It's better this way."

He picked up Dean's clammy, cold hand, pressing it hard against his face and hoping that it would be enough incentive to keep the other man, gasping, fighting and his eyes open until help could get here. Because help would get here, God wouldn't let this happen to him after everything he had done to help mankind, even if his attempts had sometimes been misguided it was more than some of his brethren could say. He deserved to keep Dean, all he wanted was to keep Dean and his family and they could find Sam without his powers if he could just find a way to keep Dean talking and moving and living until Castiel could tell him how much he loved him.

An idea struck him, it was a Winchester-worthy idea; reckless and ill-planned and full of more holes than that cheese that the Swiss made, but it was the only one he had and help wasn't arriving fast enough. So he turned his thoughts inward, keeping his eyes locked on Dean's that were still hazily focused on him with droopy-lidded determination, so that he could search for that dim, empty corner of his mind that used to house Jimmy Novak. It was what his mind had felt like before Daphne had found him and filled in his false past for him. It was the _tabula rasa_ that had so easily became Emmanuel because it was easier than trying to sort out his own forgotten memories and it was what his mind was going to be like once he forced his grace into Dean's body so that he could heal it from the inside out.

The thought of never remembering himself again was terrifying, but so was losing Dean and he had to pick the lesser of the two evils if for no other reason than the world needed Dean Winchester in it far more than it needed a fallen, rebellious, freak of nature angel like himself.

"Dean. Dean!" Castiel said, jostling the other man as gently as he could in an effort to make him focus. "I need you to listen to me. Please, Dean its important."

"Caaasss," Dean mumbled, his lips looking alarmingly pale against the blood that stained his cheeks and chin. "I'm...I'm paying attention, I promise. Just...so tired."

"I know," the angel sobbed, pulling the other man closer so that he could try to ease the way his shoulders wanted to shake under the pressure of desperately trying to keep himself composed in front of the other man. "I know you're tired, Dean. You can sleep soon; I just need you to agree to something first."

"Anything, sweetheart." Dean sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching with what Castiel knew was supposed to be a smirk that couldn't quite make its way all the way through the blood-starved muscles of the other man's face. "For you, Cas. Anything."

It wasn't a yes, he needed an explicit 'Yes' to be able to possess Dean without causing the other man's body to explode from the pressure of having an angelic force inside of him.

"I want something too though," Dean muttered, a hard cough wracking through his frame causing the large pool of blood that had formed underneath him to ripple and shiver even as the trickle of blood coming out of his mouth ebbed, that probably wasn't good.

"What Dean?" Castiel asked, wiping away the blood stubbornly with the cuff of his trench coat and leaning close because Dean's voice was almost a whisper now, fading and losing its snarky, confidence that he had dreamed of hearing when he had first fallen and had found himself all alone in the faceless, unfamiliar mass of humanity.

"What does every guy want on his death bed?" Dean joked, a twinkle flittering dimly in his eye before it faded too. "One last hurrah."

"I don't really think that's appropriate," Castiel replied, smiling in spite of himself and feeling a fresh wave of sadness wrack through him because if he didn't get a yes soon then he would never get to have hurrahs or anything else with Dean.

"Kiss then," Dean breathed, there was too much time between the rises and falls of his chest. "One last first kiss, the only one that ever mattered."

Castiel nodded, shedding the hot, burning tears that he couldn't possibly hope to stop anymore as he ducked his head down to breathe softly with his lips close to Dean's. Any other time he would probably be able to smell coffee or pie on the other man's breath or maybe his aftershave or the shampoo that he used, the same brand that he had packed into the duffle that he had forced onto the fallen angel before making him leave the bunker. But right now all he could smell was the harsh, iron scent of too much blood coagulating and when he brushed his lips over Dean's he couldn't even will away the feeling of how cold and lifeless they felt. He resolved that if he managed to pull this off he would kiss Dean hard enough to wipe away the memory of their first kiss and replace it with one that wasn't so horrible and sad.

Dean hummed into his mouth, sounding pleased in a way that broke the angel's heart and sighed soft when Castiel pulled away, muffling a scream in the shoulder of his trench coat because it wouldn't help anything if he lost it now.

"That bad, huh?" Dean whispered, sucking in a wet, rasping breath and moving his shoulders in something that probably would've been one of the shrugs he did to convince people that he was okay when he really really wasn't if he wasn't lying on the floor. "Well, at least I won't have to be embarrassed for very long. Now what did you want, Cas?"

"I need you to say yes." He choked out, licking his lips and tasting only blood before he looked back down at Dean who was almost too far gone for the words to register. "Dean, say yes so I can help you."

"I met Dorothy once," Dean muttered. "Oz, Dorothy; cool chick. Wonder if Alice is real too...feed your head."

"Dean, please," Castiel begged, pressing his face into the other man's hair and praying again harder for anyone at all to show up. He rocked Dean slightly, willing his heart to keep beating because he was too far gone to do more than brokenly hum some stupid song that Castiel didn't know and he couldn't say yes to anything. "Please say it, please say yes for me. Please."

"red queen...off with 'er head..." Dean muttered into his ear, sounding drowsy like he did when he talked in his sleep; not knowing that when he was an angel, Castiel was there as often as he could be watching over him and keeping the nightmares of hell at bay. "don't cry...cas, white rabbit, heh...no...its okay...just for a while...i always come back."

He stopped praying to angels in general, because obviously they weren't fucking coming and started praying to Metraton; reminding him that when he took his grace he told him to live his life to the fullest so that when he came back he would have a new story for the scribe, one that had never been written before. One of an angel fighting against everything for his human and all the sacrifices he made to be with the man he loved. He threatened Metatron in his prayer, telling the sadistic assbutt that if he let Dean die without giving Castiel a chance to save him one last time, that he would sooner cut his own tongue out than tell the other angel even a bedtime story.

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease," Castiel repeated, rocking Dean harder to try to keep him awake so that he would say it, even if it was wheezed out on accident, it would be enough that he could count it. "Say yes, sayitsayitsayit."

"Jeez, cas...tryna sleep...yes, already. Whatever, just shut up." Dean mumbled, shutting his eyes just as Castiel's head shot up, letting out a heavy breath that wasn't followed by another inhale.

"No!" Castiel screamed, shaking Dean hard enough to cause the other man to gasp in pain if he were still alive.

He searched the familiar face, vision blurring as the red on Dean's face parted and splattered from the tears he was shedding, looking for something that would tell him it wasn't too late. Castiel pressed his mouth hard against Dean's, wanting the other man to push him away like how he had imagined it happening so many times because at least that hurt he could deal with. Not this gaping ragged hole that was tearing at his chest where his heart used to be and Castiel just wished he could lose himself because without Dean he was lost anyway.

It started as a flicker, behind his sternum, underneath his lungs and running like a bolt of electricity down his spine. Soon it was burning at his nerves, frying them and leaving Castiel with the taste of ozone and torrential rain in his mouth as he pulled back just far enough away from Dean to see that the parted space between his lips and the other man's was glowing blue. Blue like his grace was. He moved his mouth and searched out Dean's pulse, still thrumming sluggishly in his throat even though he wasn't breathing anymore and focused on the thin thread of life he could feel through it.

This was going to hurt like hell, but a lot of being human was painful and if it meant that he was going to save Dean it was worth it. So Castiel shut his eyes, squeezing them tight so that he could blot out the blinding light of his grace pouring and wrapping around the other man, threading itself between the bone and muscle and sinew that he had knitted back together himself when he had gripped the righteous man all those years ago and raised him from perdition to save the world and his brother and one curious, wayward angel.

When he opened his eyes again, the world had shifted. He was looking up at the ceiling of a sparsely lit warehouse and he felt sore in more places that should be legally allowed. The floor was cold concrete and he could feel the warmth leeching out of his body into the hard, sticky surface that he was lying on through his jacket and his multiple layers of shirts and his jeans. He glanced down at his jeans, grimacing when he saw that yes, the bone was still sticking out of his leg and crap, he was probably going to have to push it back in before he could focus his grace on healing it.

Castiel looked over to his left, to the unconscious body that was slumped over in a sitting position, face speckled with flecks of blood and larger smears that ran along the jawline and cheekbones of his vessel. He was going to have to call an ambulance, get an emergency room to put the body onto life support for him until Dean was fixed and he could crawl back into the familiar form that he had been wearing since he first came to Earth. So he was going to have to lie, which was fine because Dean had once told him that when humans really wanted something, that's what they did. And more than anything he wanted Dean alive.

He glanced back down at the leg that belonged to him, but didn't. One part of his mind was Dean, fully aware and pissed off over what he now realized Castiel had been asking him to say yes to, but he had more pressing things to worry about, like maybe not having a jagged broken bone protruding when the medical personnel arrived. So he took a deep breath or as deep as one as he could manage because he did only have one lung and three, no, four broken ribs and pressed his palms hard and fast into the edges of the broken femur, forcing them down and together until they were under Dean's skin again before he slumped back and fumbled for the other man's cell phone in the pocket of his jeans.

The angel smiled when he saw that the background was a picture of him, passed out in the passenger seat of the Impala when Dean had been driving him to the closest bus station after kicking him out of the bunker. Even then, knowing that he still didn't have a home he had felt safe, safe enough to sleep soundly for the first time in almost a week in the car that was almost as much Dean as Dean was. The part of his mind that was the other man shut up pretty quick when he realized Castiel was looking at the picture, doing the mental equivalent of looking down at his shoes and blushing.

"You act like we haven't kissed or anything," Castiel muttered, startling himself when the voice came out as Dean's instead of his own and then blushing himself when Dean showed him images of what a kiss between the two of them should look like. "Stop that, you're convalescing and I need to keep that body you like so much alive."

He thumbed in 911 and hit call, tugging the trench coat that his vessel was wearing tighter around the unconscious form and doing a quick check of the body's pulse so that he could make sure that while mentally empty, he wouldn't wake up dead when he tried to put himself back together.

" _911, what's your emergency?"_ a feminine voice said through the phone.

"Uh..."Castiel struggled, conceding that maybe Dean should take back over the talking part and let him focus on the healing stuff instead. He gave control of the body back to the other man, warning Dean to play nice before setting himself to the familiar task of gluing bone back together with nothing more than the holy ghost equivalent of super glue.

"I think my friend's had a stroke or something," Dean lied smoothly, feeling a pleasant warmth settle into his bones as he reached out to brush a bit of hair off of Ca—er, Jimmy's? No, Cas's forehead and sighed tiredly.

He rattled off his location to the woman before struggling to his feet and looking down at the blood that he was covered in with a disgruntled frown. "Well another pair of jeans bites the dust. I'll tell them it's fake, Cas. No...stop talking to me before they get here so I don't look like I'm crazy."

Dean paused for a second, eyes going wide and mouth quirking up in a smirk. "Yea, yea. I'll never scare you like that again. How about when you stop getting yourself killed, I will? Nope, I'll have you beat forever with that Groundhog Day stunt your brother pulled...its a movie, Cas. We'll watch it when everything is back to normal. Sure...a date."


End file.
